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author biography

Andrew Gregg is the founder of re:Connect and owner of Gregg Consulting. His background has been in higher education (in computing) and Christian ministry (as a chaplain).

He is a Fellow of the Institute of Leadership, a Chartered IT professional and currently studying for an MA in Practical Theology.

  • Names Matter

    Names Matter

    This morning, I was reading 1 Kings 4, where King Solomon was appointing his governors. I noticed that one was called Ben-Hesed, and, remembering that Hesed means ‘Loving-kindness’ or mercy, I started to wonder what each of the names meant. So here is what I uncovered…

    • Ben-Hur → Freedom
    • Ben-Deker →the Spear (/Protection?)
    • Ben-Hesed → of Steadfast Love, Loving Kindness
    • Ben-Abinadab → of Generosity
    • Banna Ben-Ahilud → (Banna) Building, (Ahilud) Brother/Children
    • Ben-Geber → Warrior or to Prevail
    • Ahinadab Ben-Iddo → God is my Witness
    • Ahimazz →My Brother the Counsellor
    • Banna Ben-Hushi → (Banna) Building, (Hushi) Pace, Speed
    • Jehoshaphat Ben-Paruah →Flourishing, new Beginnings
    • Shimel Ben-Ela → Strength, Resilience, Endurance
    • Geber Ben-Uri – Light

    There were two called Banna, which means either constructing or building a family.

    In the culture of the time, names had meaning.

    Those who were Govenors in the Kingdom were called Freedom, Protection, Loving Kindness, Generosity, Building Brotherhood, Prevail, God is my Witness, My Brother the Counsellor, Building Pace, Flourshing, Strength/Resilience/Endurance and Light.

    Was Solomon appointing people who lived according to the names they had?

    I find that a very encouraging prospect, and it led me to ponder what our governments would be like if those in power lived out the meanings of the names of Solomon’s’ Governors’?

    It also made me think that in Jesus Christ we have been given a new name, a new family… When Jesus prayed ‘Our Father’ it included the promise of adoption into the Kingdom of God.

    We have been called a new name.

    When Paul writes to the early churches he often called them to live a life worthy of their calling…

    So what if we lived up to the new name we have been called? – Children of God…

    What would change in us to the Glory of God?

  • Practical Theology, Action Research and Verteshen/Emotivism

    Practical Theology, Action Research and Verteshen/Emotivism

    Introduction

    The practice of “Practical Theology” leverages the tools of the social sciences as, outlined by Max Weber, to understand and reflect upon revelation and mediation within Theology in human activity. However there already exists a clear philosophical contrast between the Verteshen of Weber (Swedberg and Agevall, 2016, Pg 356-359) and Emotivism as defined by MacIntyre. (2007, Pg 6-20).

    Alasdair MacIntyre offers emotivism largely as a diagnosis of modern moral discourse, while John Swinton and Harriet Mowat (in Practical Theology and Qualitative Research) articulate a method for faithful, transformative practice. Read together, they illuminate both the strengths and vulnerabilities of contemporary practical-theological work (Swinton and Mowatt, 2016, pg 260-266).

    Practical Theology and Verstehen (via Swinton & Mowat)

    Swinton and Mowat’s account of Practical Theology as action research sits very naturally within the tradition of Verstehen associated with Max Weber.

    They emphasise that:

    • Human experience is interpretative, complex, and meaning-laden
    • Research involves uncovering “worlds of meaning” embedded in practice
    • Methods like ethnography, interviews, and reflexivity enable us to grasp how people understand their own actions

    This is classic Verstehen: an attempt to interpret the subjective meanings that shape social action.

    However, Swinton and Mowat go beyond Weber in two decisive ways:

    1. From interpretation to transformation
    Where Weber’s Verstehen is primarily explanatory, Swinton and Mowat insist that understanding must lead to changed, more faithful practice. Their cyclical model (practice → reflection → revised practice) embeds interpretation within action research.

    2. A theological telos
    Unlike Weber’s descriptive sociology, their approach is oriented toward faithfulness to God and participation in divine mission. This introduces:

    • A normative framework (faithfulness, not just meaning)
    • A commitment to mediation between theology and lived practice

    So, their work can be seen as:

    Verstehen + theological normativity + transformative action

    Practical Theology and Emotivism (via MacIntyre)

    MacIntyre’s account of emotivism provides a critical lens through which to assess Swinton and Mowat’s project.

    For MacIntyre, emotivism claims that:

    • Moral judgments are expressions of preference or feeling
    • They are neither true nor false
    • Moral debate becomes interminable, because no rational resolution is possible

    Swinton and Mowat implicitly resist this position, but they also operate in the cultural context MacIntyre describes.

    Points of resonance

    They share with MacIntyre an awareness that:

    • The world is not reducible to simplistic scientific rationality
    • Human experience includes emotion, perception, and depth
    • Surface-level accounts of practice often mask deeper realities

    In this sense, they acknowledge the complexity and non-neutrality of human meaning, something emotivism also (in its own way) highlights.

    Points of tension and critique

    However, Swinton and Mowat clearly reject emotivism’s reductionism:

    1. Against “mere expression”
    MacIntyre argues that modern moral language often functions as emotivism. Swinton and Mowat assume instead that practices can be:

    • Misinterpreted
    • Critically evaluated
    • Reformed toward greater faithfulness

    This presupposes that meaning is not just subjective expression, but something that can be truer or less true.

    2. Retaining truth (though chastened)
    While they avoid naive claims (“we don’t find truth, truth finds us”), they still affirm:

    • A genuine search for truth and faithfulness
    • The role of revelation alongside empirical inquiry

    This stands directly against emotivism’s denial of truth-value in moral claims.

    3. Transformation beyond persuasion
    For MacIntyre, emotivist discourse often becomes a matter of influencing attitudes.
    For Swinton and Mowat, action research aims at:

    • Faithful participation in God’s mission
    • Transformation grounded in theological discernment, not preference

    Action Research as the Key Intersection

    Action research is where the relationship becomes most illuminating.

    • Like Weber’s Verstehen, it begins with interpreting lived experience
    • Unlike emotivism, it assumes that such interpretation can lead to meaningful, justified change
    • Unlike purely social-scientific models, Swinton and Mowat embed it in a theological telos

    Their distinctive contribution is to reframe action research as:

    • Not just problem-solving, but faithfulness-seeking
    • Not just understanding practice, but challenging and reshaping it
    • Not just participatory, but theologically mediated

    Overall Synthesis

    Read together:

    • MacIntyre exposes the danger that moral and social discourse collapses into expressions of preference (emotivism).
    • Swinton and Mowat offer a model of inquiry that resists this collapse by grounding interpretation in theological truth and transformative practice.
    • Weber’s Verstehen provides the methodological bridge: a way of taking meaning seriously without reducing it to mere feeling.

    The result is a productive tension:

    Practical Theology as articulated by Swinton and Mowat can be understood as a theologically directed form of Verstehen, consciously or not responding to the kind of cultural condition that MacIntyre diagnoses—seeking to recover meaningful, truth-oriented, and transformative practice in a context where moral discourse is always at risk of sliding into emotivism.

    Bibliography

    MacIntyre, A. (2007) After Virtue. 3rd edn. University of Notre Dame Press. Available at: https://www.perlego.com/book/856189 (Accessed: 5 May 2026).

    Swedberg, R. and Agevall, O. (2016) The Max Weber Dictionary. 2nd edn. Stanford Social Sciences. Available at: https://www.perlego.com/book/745418 (Accessed: 5 May 2026).

    Swinton, J. and Mowatt, H. (2016) Practical Theology and Qualitative Research. 2nd edn. London: SCM Press.

  • Verstehen & Emotivism Compared

    Verstehen & Emotivism Compared

    Introduction

    Over the past few months I have been (slowly) reading After Virtue by Alasdair MacIntyre. I tend to read slowly and have multiple books on the go at the same time hence the pace of my reading… However I was struck about how MacIntyres discussion of Emotivism engages with the Social Sciences and in particular how it contrasts Max Webers concept of Verstehen (understanding).

    Therefore I decided to make a comparision of my definitions of these concepts and make them available here on my blog.

    Definitions

    Definition of Verstehen (from Swedberg and Agevall, 2016, Pg 356-359):

    Verstehen is an interpretive method of understanding in sociology that seeks to grasp and explain the subjective meanings individuals attach to their actions. It involves both identifying what an action means to the actor and situating that meaning within a broader context of related meanings. This understanding goes beyond mere observation, often requiring empathetic or interpretive insight into motives, intentions, and perspectives. For Weber, Verstehen is not opposed to explanation but is essential to it, forming the basis for a causal explanation of social action.

    Definition of Emotivism (from MacIntyre, 2007, Pg 6-20):

    Emotivism is the view that moral (and more broadly evaluative) judgements do not state objective facts or truths, but instead function as expressions of an individual’s attitudes, preferences, or feelings. Such judgments are neither true nor false, and there are no rational methods for resolving moral disagreements. Rather than appealing to objective standards, moral language is used to express one’s own stance and to influence the attitudes or emotions of others.

    At a basic level, the two definitions describe very different accounts of what moral or social understanding is and how it works—and they pull in almost opposite directions.

    Comparison

    MacIntyres argument of emotivism presents moral language as fundamentally non-rational and expressive. Moral judgments do not describe reality; they express feelings or preferences and attempt to influence others. Disagreement, therefore, cannot be settled by reason but only by persuasion or emotional effect.

    By contrast, Verstehen (as developed by Max Weber) treats human action as meaningful and interpretable. Social inquiry aims to understand the subjective meanings actors attach to their behaviour, and this interpretive grasp is not opposed to explanation but is a necessary part of it. Rather than reducing discourse to feeling, it assumes that actions are intelligible within shared or reconstructible frameworks of meaning.

    So, where emotivism emphasises subjective expression without rational resolution, Verstehen emphasises subjective meaning as something that can be rationally interpreted and explained.

    Critique of Emotivism

    The strength of emotivism lies in its realism about how moral disagreement often feels in practice—heated, persistent, and resistant to resolution. It captures the way moral language is often used rhetorically to influence others.

    However, it is ultimately too reductive. By treating moral judgments as nothing but expressions of feeling, it struggles to account for:

    • The structured, reason-giving nature of moral arguments (people offer reasons, not just emotions).
    • The possibility of moral learning or progress.
    • The distinction between better and worse arguments, which people routinely make.

    It risks reducing morality to a psychological or rhetorical contest, thereby undermining the very idea of moral reasoning.

    Critique of Verstehen

    Verstehen offers a richer and more nuanced account of human action. Its strength is that it:

    • Takes meaning and intention seriously.
    • Recognises that social life cannot be explained purely in external, causal terms.
    • Integrates interpretation with explanation, rather than opposing them.

    Yet it also has limitations:

    • It can be methodologically uncertain—how do we verify that we have correctly understood someone’s subjective meaning?
    • It risks over-reliance on empathy, which may be biased or culturally limited.
    • In difficult cases, meanings may be opaque, inaccessible, or even self-deceptive, raising doubts about how far understanding can go.

    Overall Assessment

    The two approaches reflect competing visions of human inquiry. Emotivism is deflationary, stripping moral language of rational content; Verstehen is interpretive and reconstructive, aiming to recover meaning and intelligibility.

    If emotivism goes too far in denying rationality, Verstehen may be overconfident in our ability to access meaning. A balanced position would likely acknowledge that:

    • Human action is indeed meaningful and interpretable (as Verstehen insists),
    • But that interpretation is fallible and sometimes entangled with emotion and persuasion (as emotivism highlights).

    In that sense, each definition exposes a weakness in the other: emotivism neglects meaning, while Verstehen may underestimate the instability and contestability of meaning in real human life.

    Bibliography

    MacIntyre, A. (2007) After Virtue. [2nd Edition]. University of Notre Dame Press. Available at: https://www.perlego.com/book/856189 (Accessed: 5 May 2026).

    Swedberg, R. and Agevall, O. (2016) The Max Weber Dictionary. 2nd edn. Stanford Social Sciences. Available at: https://www.perlego.com/book/745418 (Accessed: 5 May 2026).

  • Recovering the Christian Tradition of Hospitality

    Recovering the Christian Tradition of Hospitality

    In a world marked by suffering, exclusion, and isolation, the Christian act of welcome and hospitality embodies the heart of God’s redemptive mission. To welcome another—especially the vulnerable—is both a witness to and participation in God’s reconciling work through Jesus Christ, who reveals a God that invites all humanity into divine fellowship. Hospitality, once central to biblical faith from Abraham to Christ, reflects God as the gracious host who welcomes creation and calls his people to extend that same generosity to others. In contrast to the alienation fostered by modern technological life, true community arises through authentic human connection, listening, and acceptance. Thus, hospitality is not a mere social courtesy but a core expression of Christian identity and mission (Missio Dei)—a tangible way of joining God in bringing justice, healing, and hope to a world in need.

    Historically, hospitality was foundational to both social and religious life. In the ancient world, it meant offering food, shelter, and protection to strangers, who were often vulnerable travellers. In Israel’s tradition, hospitality was a divine command rooted in the people’s own identity as “strangers and sojourners.” Jesus himself depended on the hospitality of others while also offering it—welcoming outcasts, sinners, and the poor. He taught that welcoming strangers and feeding the hungry were acts of service to Christ himself. The early church viewed hospitality as a hallmark of Christian faith: it was required of leaders, practised across social divides, and considered a sign of genuine discipleship.

    Through the early centuries, hospitality took physical, social, and spiritual forms, centered on shared meals and mutual recognition of human dignity. Christian distinctiveness lay in extending welcome not only to peers but especially to the poor and marginalized. Church Fathers such as John Chrysostom and reformers like Luther and Calvin emphasized that in welcoming the needy, one welcomed God. Monastic traditions carried this ethic forward, making hospitality to strangers a key part of their vocation.

    Over time, however, institutional and cultural changes weakened personal hospitality. The rise of hospitals, hospices, and hostels professionalised care for the needy, shifting it from personal to institutional settings. The household itself became smaller and more private, while the church’s social role changed under state influence. By the eighteenth century, hospitality was seen as outdated—a quaint domestic virtue rather than a radical Christian practice.

    This loss has impoverished Christian life. Without hospitality, the church loses a vital link between theology and daily moral action. Recovering hospitality can reconnect Christian belief with pressing social issues such as homelessness, disability, migration, and alienation. Ancient and modern practitioners alike show that hospitality is both risky and transformative—a practice that shapes communities of compassion and inclusion.

    Modern intentional Christian communities—Catholic Worker houses, L’Arche, and Benedictine monasteries among others—offer living models of this recovery. They welcome diverse strangers, live simply, and integrate prayer with service. Their hospitality is “a sign of contradiction,” embodying hope, reconciliation, and the possibility of love in a fractured world. In these communities, hospitality is both demanding and rewarding; it nourishes hosts and guests alike and depends on spiritual grounding and communal discipline.

    Hospitality is not limited to those living in intentional communities. It can and should be practised in ordinary homes and churches. Welcoming strangers—those disconnected from family, work, or community—creates spaces of safety, respect, and mutual blessing. Genuine hospitality involves listening, sharing life, and making space for others in one’s personal and institutional settings. It is not merely an attitude but a physical and relational act that mirrors God’s own welcome.

    Recovering this practice requires honesty about the failures and distortions of past traditions, as well as attentiveness to present realities. Hospitality must be adapted thoughtfully to modern contexts—balancing openness with boundaries, generosity with wisdom. It is both a spiritual discipline and a moral art, learned by practice, guided by mentors, and sustained by prayer.

    Ultimately, hospitality is presented as a theological lens and a way of life through which Christians can better understand and embody the gospel. It challenges self-protection and individualism, reorients believers toward the stranger, and manifests the Kingdom of God as a community of welcome. The author concludes that to recover hospitality is not to revive a quaint custom, but to reclaim a transformative Christian practice capable of addressing the deepest social and spiritual fractures of contemporary life.

    A definition of Christian Hospitality…

    Christian hospitality can be defined as the intentional and self-giving practice of welcoming others—especially strangers, the marginalised, and those in need—as an expression of God’s own gracious welcome revealed in Jesus Christ. Rooted in both the Old and New Testaments, it reflects God’s redemptive love, inviting all people into relationship and community. Christian hospitality is more than social kindness; it is participation in the mission of God (Missio Dei), embodying the gospel through acts of justice, compassion, and inclusion. It mirrors the divine example of Christ, who made space for all by offering himself in love, and calls believers to extend that same openness and care without expectation of reciprocation, thus making God’s reconciling presence visible in the world.

    Characteristics of Christian Hospitality…

    The key characteristics of Christian hospitality—as drawn from biblical theology and theological reflection—include the following:

    1. Welcoming the Stranger – At its heart, Christian hospitality extends love and welcome beyond family or friends to strangers, outsiders, and the marginalized, reflecting God’s inclusive love (Lev. 19:33–34; Luke 10:25–37).
    2. Imitating God’s Character – Hospitality mirrors God’s own nature as the divine host who welcomes humanity into relationship. It is an act of participating in God’s redemptive mission (Missio Dei) and embodying the gospel (Rom. 15:7).
    3. Self-Giving and Sacrificial Love – True hospitality requires making space for others, often at personal cost, as modeled by Christ who “emptied himself” (Phil. 2:7). It goes beyond convenience to costly compassion and selfless service.
    4. Inclusion and Justice – Christian hospitality breaks down social, cultural, and economic barriers, promoting justice, equality, and reconciliation. It prioritises the needs of the poor, widows, orphans, foreigners, and those excluded from community (Mal. 3:5; Matt. 25:35–40).
    5. Embodied Faith – Hospitality is not merely a feeling but an embodied, practical expression of faith—feeding the hungry, visiting the sick, welcoming the lonely, and offering shelter or companionship. It gives tangible form to the gospel.
    6. Reciprocity Without Expectation – True Christian hospitality expects no return; it is offered freely, mirroring God’s grace and generosity (Luke 14:12–14).
    7. Community and Fellowship – Hospitality restores and builds authentic human connection in a fragmented world, fostering mutual belonging and participation in the life of the church and God’s family.
    8. Eschatological Hope – Ultimately, Christian hospitality points toward the coming Kingdom of God—a foretaste of the eternal welcome at the “Marriage Supper of the Lamb” (Rev. 19:9), where all are gathered into God’s household.

    Together, these characteristics show that Christian hospitality is not merely a moral virtue but a theological practice—a way of living that reveals God’s love, justice, and welcome to the world.

  • The Hidden Environmental Toll of AI:

    The Hidden Environmental Toll of AI:

    How Data Centres Are Draining Power and Water

    As artificial intelligence continues its meteoric rise—powering everything from chatbots to autonomous systems—its physical footprint is often obscured behind slick interfaces and catchy headlines. Behind every “smart” response, there’s a sprawling data centre generating heat, consuming energy, and guzzling water. This reality raises urgent questions: at what cost does AI scale? And are we ignoring a growing environmental debt?

    Electricity Consumption: The Power Problem

    1. Explosive Growth in Energy Demand
      AI is driving an unprecedented surge in electricity consumption within data centres. According to the International Energy Agency (IEA), data centre electricity demand could nearly double, reaching ~945 TWh by 2030 under its base case. IEA Crucially, “accelerated servers” (i.e., those used for AI workloads) account for a disproportionate share of this growth, with electricity demand projected to rise by about 30% annually in some scenarios. IEA
    2. Grid Strain and Carbon Risk
      More power demand is not just a matter of flipping a switch. If that electricity comes from fossil-fuel-heavy grids, the carbon emissions multiply. Already, some studies have flagged that data centres’ carbon intensity (CO₂e per kWh) in the U.S. exceeds national averages by a significant margin. arXiv Without rigorous sustainable energy sourcing, scaling AI risks undermining climate goals — the very aspiration many proponents of AI claim to support.

    Water Consumption: The Underreported Crisis

    1. Cooling Isn’t Just Air
      Servers working on large AI models generate huge amounts of heat, and cooling them down is not trivial. Many data centres rely on evaporative cooling systems, which consume large volumes of water. The AI Journal+1 To put numbers on it: a 1 MW data centre can use up to 25.5 million litres of water per year just for cooling. World Economic Forum
    2. Indirect Water Use via Electricity
      The water footprint of AI isn’t limited to on-site cooling. The generation of electricity that powers these data centres also consumes water—especially in thermoelectric plants. ITU In fact, some analyses suggest that indirect water use (from power generation) may outstrip direct data-centre water use. ITU
    3. Escalating Global Risk
      According to Morgan Stanley, AI data centres’ water consumption could jump to ~1,068 billion litres annually by 2028 for cooling and electricity generation combined. mint+1 Many of these facilities are in regions already vulnerable to water stress. In the UK, for example, water resource constraints are projected to worsen, raising serious concerns about siting new “AI growth zones.” GOV.UK+1
    4. Life-Cycle Water Usage
      Beyond operations, AI’s water footprint also extends to the manufacturing of hardware: chip fabrication is notoriously water-intensive, requiring ultrapure water. The Economic Times+1 According to academic research, building and training large language models can consume millions of litres of water even before deployment. arXiv

    The Bigger Picture: Sustainability vs. Scalability

    • Transparency Gap: Despite the gravity of the issue, data centre operators and tech giants often underreport or obscure their resource use. The UK government’s own report highlighted how water and energy consumption data are “frequently overlooked or underreported,” complicating regulation and sustainability planning. GOV.UK
    • Local Pressure, Global Consequences: In water-stressed regions, placing massive AI data hubs could pit corporate infrastructure against local water needs—consumers, agriculture, ecosystems all potentially losing out. Global Action Plan+1
    • Technological Band-Aids Aren’t Enough: There is growing interest in circular water solutions—closed-loop cooling, water recycling, water replenishment—but adoption lags, and in many places, traditional open-loop systems still dominate. World Economic Forum
    • Regulatory Blindspots: There are increasing calls for mandatory environmental reporting from major tech players. Without such frameworks, we risk locking in unsustainable infrastructure. The Guardian

    Why This Matters — and What Can Be Done

    1. Strategic Policy Intervention
      Governments should require transparent reporting of energy and water metrics from data centres, especially those designed for AI. This data is essential for planning, especially in regions already under water stress.
    2. Smart Site Planning
      When selecting locations for AI data centres, planners must account for local water availability, water stress, and grid capacity—not just land cost or proximity to customers.
    3. Investment in Alternative Cooling
      Data centre operators should accelerate adoption of advanced cooling technologies (e.g., liquid immersion cooling, closed-loop systems) that greatly reduce water consumption.
    4. Green Energy Integration
      Pairing data centres with clean power (renewables, low-carbon generation) helps mitigate the carbon and indirect water costs tied to electricity production.
    5. Circular Water Economics
      Tech companies must invest in “water replenishment” projects (e.g., restoring water in stressed basins), wastewater reuse, and innovative water-management models as core parts of their growth strategy—not as peripheral CSR projects.

    Conclusion

    AI’s promise is undeniable: it has the capacity to transform industries, drive innovation, and unlock new capabilities in science, business, and society. But if we ignore its environmental footprint—especially in terms of energy and water—we risk fueling a technology boom that harms the very planet it purports to help.

    Scaling AI sustainably demands more than just faster chips and bigger models; it requires confronting the resource demands of the infrastructure that supports it—and making tough choices about power, water, and the long-term cost of “intelligence.” Without that reckoning, we may be building an AI future on foundations that are anything but green.

  • Remembering, Identity, and the “Us…Our” of Genesis 1:26

    Remembering, Identity, and the “Us…Our” of Genesis 1:26

    Reflections Shaped by Rabbi Jonathan Sacks and Old Testament Scholarship

    Introduction

    I’ve recently been reading Rabbi Jonathan Sacks’ work on the Hebrew understanding of remembering (zakhar) and history. His reflections on how Jewish identity has survived thousands of years—often without land, king, or nation—have deeply influenced how I approached Genesis 1:26 this week.

    The phrase “Let us make humankind in our image…” becomes especially striking when we remember who Genesis was written for: a community of ex-slaves, refugees from Egypt, discovering a new identity under one God.

    Who Was Genesis Written For?

    Genesis addressed a particular people:

    • Families linked through shared lineage
    • Refugees liberated from Egyptian domination
    • A monotheistic community in a polytheistic world
    • A nation without land, king or political identity

    To these people, the plural “us…our” would have carried profound implications.

    Exploring the “Us…Our”: Insights from the Commentaries

    Hamilton’s Six Possibilities

    Hamilton outlines six potential explanations:

    1. A reference to surrounding polytheistic cultures
    2. A heavenly court
    3. God addressing creation itself
    4. The “royal we”
    5. God speaking to himself/themselves
    6. A proto-trinitarian conversation between God and the Spirit

    Hamilton does not commit to any one view, but importantly he argues that the author is not “too primitive” to conceive of unity-within-plurality.

    McKeown’s Contribution

    McKeown narrows the options to:

    • The royal “we”
    • A heavenly court
    • A proto-trinitarian reading

    He rejects any notion of polytheism and leans toward the proto-trinitarian option, supported by Cline’s argument that the Spirit functions as “another person within the divine being.”

    Walton’s Approach

    Walton places his focus not on “us…our” but on “image” and “likeness.”
    His deep engagement with Ancient Near Eastern culture is valuable, but on this particular question it sidesteps the nuances that Hamilton and McKeown explore.

    Which Interpretation Makes the Most Sense?

    As a 21st-century Christian, I naturally lean toward the proto-trinitarian interpretation. But beyond my bias, this interpretation speaks powerfully into Israel’s historical context.

    These refugees had just escaped a god-king, slavery, and the polytheistic worldview of Egypt. They were being offered a completely new identity:

    “You are not slaves.
    You are my representatives.
    You bear my image.
    You share in my work.”

    This gives them:

    • Identity – bearing God’s image
    • Authority – acting as God’s representatives
    • Purpose – taking part in ordering creation

    And without land of their own, they are given a vocation for the whole world.

    Wrestling With “Subdue” and “Rule”

    The terms subdue, dominion, and rule can feel uncomfortable. Today they often imply exploitation or excessive power—exactly what the Israelites had endured.

    A covenantal lens offers a different approach: leadership defined by service.
    Jesus’ words frame this beautifully:

    “Whoever wants to become great among you must be your servant.”
    —Matthew 20:26; Mark 10:43; Luke 22:26

    Israel’s calling was not domination, but stewardship.

    “In” the Image, Not “Of” the Image

    A key insight this week has been the difference between:

    Being created in the image

    and

    Being created of the image

    • “Of” implies possession or servitude—echoes of Pharaoh.
    • “In” implies relationship, participation, and shared purpose.

    This resonates with Jesus’ prayer in John 17:

    “May they be in us, just as I am in you…”

    Israel’s calling was deeply countercultural.
    Even Sabbath rest testified to this: in the ANE world only kings rested, yet Israel’s God gave rest to everyone—foreigners, servants, even animals.

    This was a revolution of identity.

    Memory, Identity, and “Zakhar”

    Goldingay brought me back to the Hebrew verb zakhar — to remember.

    Rabbi Sacks notes that Hebrew had no word for “history” until the 1800s; what Israel was commanded to do was remember—169 times in the Old Testament.

    “History asks, ‘What happened?’
    Memory asks, ‘Who am I?’”     —Sacks

    Genesis 1:26 is not distant information.
    It is identity-forming memory.
    It is something that, in some sense, “happened to us.”

    No wonder the Psalmist marvels:

    “What are mortals that you are mindful of them?”

    This week’s study has been a genuine zakhar moment for me—
    a purposeful act of remembering that would not have happened by chance.

    Conclusion

    The plural “us…our” in Genesis 1:26 is more than a linguistic puzzle.
    It is part of a profound affirmation: humanity—every person—is created in God’s image, invited into God’s work, and given dignity not through land or power but through identity in God.

    For Israel, and for us, this passage is a call to remember who we really are.